Ataraxia
by MuchFanVeryFic
Summary: Ataraxia: calmness or piece of mind; emotional tranquility. —a collection of one shots from all over my mind—
1. -Nine-

-Nine-

_[Tinyheart- yellowish she-cat of a small, unusual size and amber eyes]_

The small goldeny feline, with her large sappy eyes, padded through the dark forest. The familiar shape of Rainfall beside her helped calm her nerves. "Nervous?" the large, grey stained tom beside her asked. Tinyheart nodded sheepishly. Rainfall smiled. "don't be."

The sound of soft thunder rolled above, the feeling of a light shower hit their fur. Tinyheart shivered, and Rainfall chuckled. He was a strange Tom, he would often sit out in the rain, welcoming its chill and beauty.

The forest around them trembled, as if delighted to finally have another visitor. It was nearly pitch black, the canopy above blocking all light from the full moon. Tinyheart shivered again, spooked by her surroundings. Rainfall reassured her that there was nothing to fear, they were in a sacred place unlike any other.

The pair broke through a particularly thick bush, revealing the one thing they had come for.

The great Moon Skull.

It was the skull of an ancient, unknown beast, with a single Moon lily growing out of one of the eye holes.

Tinyheart gasped, taken aback by the sight. Rainfall stood stoically, simply taking in the view. "it is time..." he told Tinyheart.

There was a new light in her eyes, as she stepped up to the skull, connecting her nose with that of the beast's.

There was a rush of air, and a heavenly stillness. Tinyheart opened her eyes to the most gorgeous sight she had ever seen.

Stars, galaxies, nebulas surrounded her, and made up the cats she saw around her. Some she knew, some she didn't, all looking upon her with wild pride in their eyes and congratulations in their mouths.

Then, all was hushed. The first giver stepped up. A legendary warrior, one Tinyheart knew when she was just a kit, Stormchaser.

The she cat was unable to form words, and she tried to move to go to the warrior, but she was rooted to the spot. Instead, the stormy gray Tom approached her.

"Tinyheart..." he began. "still Tiny, I see." he teased. Tinyheart gave him a playful glare, and smiled. "I give you this life for ferocity. When your clan mates need you, let nothing, not even your stature, stop you from coming to their aid."

Their noses connected, and pure electricity flowed, free and true. It spoke of ancient battles, furious claws, and standing up for those that you must protect. Stormchaser stepped back, leaving Tinyheart spiked with energy.

A kit, long forgotten by most, stepped up. He was missing his back right leg. Tinyheart looked down at him with glistening eyes. "the name is Strongkit!" the little brown tabby kit squeaked. All of a sudden, he rose up, becoming large, muscular, yet still missing a leg. He grinned madly at Tinyheart , who was taken aback.

"I give you this life so you remain strong, all the time! Cuz a leader must be able to continue even in the hardest of times, even with the worst disabilities, ya know." they connected noses. Tinyheart was riveted, a feeling of ferocious power and courage filed her entire being. She felt like a boulder that none could move, steady and able to weather anything the world threw at her.

When she reopened her eyes, little Strongkit was smiling up at her, small as ever. He strutted off, tail like a little flag.

A regal she cat, with fluffy black fur, and a white chest, sauntered up. She looked at Tinyheart without a smile, but with fair green eyes. "I give you this life for judgement. In hard times of war and misgivings, being able to correctly judge and assess the situation may save many lives." Regalflower touched her nose to Tinyheart's. Wisdom flowed over the she cat life a robe, making her see things she never did before, never thought possible. It was over just like that, and Regalflower was already walking away.

Shardclaw stepped up, his darkgrey fur littered with lighter flecks. His held face power, and his eyes held grief. "I give you this life to Cope. The loss of a loved one may be difficult to handle, but you must find the strength to move on." their noses met. a flush of color made everything appear drab and lifeless, and the ultimate weight came crashing came crashing down on the soon to be leader. Sorrow flooded every crevice of her soul, and she was near her breaking point. A light came bashing in, showing the truth of the world, and the hope everyday brings. Shardclaw left with a small "good luck".

A red she cat stood up next. Tinyheart gasped. "Redhaze!" she purred in delight. Redhaze cuffed her playfully over the ears, and smiled a warm smile. "hey Tiny, glad to see you again!" she coughed a little, and continued. "with this life, I give you Friendship. Never forget who your friends are, and hold them close, for they will always be there for you." A rush of playfulness, happiness, jokes, seriousness, and comfort zoomed straight through Tinyheart, slingshoting back. Redhaze smiled, and stepped down after a quiet "bye, tiny..."

A small, whitish Tom stepped up. Mintfrost. "welcome." he said in a small voice. "with this life, I give you Sacrifice. Life can be hard, and we must all make sacrifices, whether they are big or small. Do not hesitate to make sacrifices for your clan." he pressed his nose to hers, and Tinyheart was swept away in a muddle of pain, nobility, and righteousness. When she was released, Mintfrost nodded to her, and walked down.

Rosestar, a cat of almost pink fur, stepped up. Tinyheart purred loudly, over joyed to see her former leader. Rosestar nuzzled her deputy, and smiled. "good day, Tinyheart." she purred. "with this life, I award you cunning. It takes a sly fox to nab the rabbit, and in some situations you are the fox, some the rabbit. Whatever the situation, use this life to outsmart all others." Rosestar pressed her nose to Tiny's. The feeling of illusion took Tinyheart, her tongue became silver, her feet sly and quiet. Rosestar nodded a final farewell, and stepped down.

A calico Tom stepped up, his form badly faded. He grinned madly. "Tis is, the founder of Wildclan!" he announced. "Wildstar, at your service." Tinyheart's eyes went wide, and she stammered. "say nothing, child, for I have something very important to say. You are very special. While you are small in stature, your heart is the purest Starclan had ever seen. And you will fulfill your ultimate destiny one day. This life I give you will help you get there. With this life, I grant you the power of the ancient beasts." he swiftly connected noses.

The images of mighty beasts ran through Tinyheart's head. And she didn't feel so tiny anymore. She felt massive. And there they were, her enemies, al, running in terror. She roared in victory, her clan-

The vision was cut off, and Wildstar looked at Tiny with large, proud blue eyes. "go, Tinystar! fulfill your purpose!" he instructed.

Tinyheart woke up, and Rainfall looked at her with wide eyes. "y-you... You are th-the Great Beast." he stammered.

—


	2. Losses

_[Shardclaw: A large tom, with a strong build. His fur is dark grey, with lighter grey speckles littered across his pelt. Across his chest and belly, the same light grey, except in streaks. His front right paw is completely black, and the color fades to grey as it traverses up his leg]_

...

As his feet left the cold earth, and the air around him froze, regret welled up from the deepest pit in his heart. "Take me away..."

...

Shardclaw peered around the camp with a heavy weight upon his pelt. Shaking the snow from his body, he made his way over to a small group of warriors.

"Shardclaw! What do you need?" One asked quietly, inquisitively. The deputy rarely left the leader's side these days, with little explanation at that.

"Arrange a patrol along the Marsh border, would you? I've heard that their scent may have been detected in our territory, and I want it confirmed." The tom said, tail twitching as a blast of icy wind struck the side of his body. The cat in front of him nodded, hurrying off to fulfill the request.

Shardclaw turned, trudging to check on the leader of his clan. Her health had been on a steady decline all season... Like almost everyone else's.

...

In the small cave in which the leader dwelled, sickness lay thick in the air, choking any cat who entered. Huddled up in her nest, Featherstar groaned as light filtered in from Shardclaw's entrance.

"Featherstar... How are you fairing?" Shardclaw asked quietly, standing back.

"Terrible, no better than yesterday... Why must you bother me so early?"

Shardclaw sighed. "I have concerns... This is your second to last life... Are you not worried?"

A bitter chuckle from the old she cat was all the response he got, before walking away.

...

Gazing over the camp, Shardclaw wondered why such a curse had been placed on them. A new sickness, one no cat around had ever seen, had set in. It was crippling, and fast. Once a cat caught it, there was little to do to help them. One side of the camp had been set aside, by Featherstar herself, to house the sick cats. No others could afford to get sick, she argued. And no one questioned their great leader.

Ever since, the clan had been falling apart. No matter the effort, cats were still getting sick. Rule after rule had been set in place to prevent the spread... But to no avail.

In one final stand, before falling sick herself, Featherstar declared that all sick cats must hunt for themselves. No contact between sick and well was allowed under any form. Not even the medicine cat was allowed to try and treat them. It was truly becoming a hopeless situation.

Muttering to himself, Shardclaw trudged through the snow, to the nursery. Inside, his mate was nestled in her warm nest, their kits asleep.

"Frostbird..." He greeted the dark she cat. Her fur was dark, but the edges of her fur were tinged silver, creating an effect mimicking frost on a bird's feathers.

Frostbird purred, leaning up to nuzzle her mate's snout. "They are fine, all three of them." She responded.

"Are you sure, none of them seem sick?" Shardclaw asked, concern unconcealed.

"Don't even think about that, of course they are!" Frostbird answered, licking Shardclaw's cheek to reassure her mate. "Now go back out there, and keep order. Starclan knows we are falling apart..."

...

Over the coming moons, order was kept, but just barely. The sickness has claimed half of the clan,so many cats suffered, fur littering the ground they slept on as it fell from their coats.

Shardclaw shook his head, looking at his paws. Everyone was hungry, Leafbare offered no sympathy, claiming lives without care. His mate and kits managed to remain untouched by the sickness, thank Starclan...

"We should get rid of them! Force out the sickness while we are still alive! They do nothing but attempt to hunt in our forests, and scare what prey we have back into hiding!" One newly appointed warrior snarled from below. Shardclaw silenced him by leaping down from the rock and neatly cuffing him over the ears. "Hush!" He demanded, and the smaller cat looked down, ears pressed against his head.

Shardclaw walked off, a prayer flying through his head that nothing like that would ever happen.

A cat rushed from the nursery, and the smell of fear hit Shardclaw like a boulder. "What's wrong?"

"... Frostbird, she's sick!" The medicine cat whispered, before running off.

...

The day was cold. Colder than before. As the elders dragged his beloved's body away to be buried by his request, Shardclaw leaned up against the Great Rock in agony. The squeals of sick kits as they died... It haunted him, it would not leave. The cold stare of his leader as she watched, almost as if she was testing him in some way. It shook him to the core. He could no longer function properly, something was amiss.

The cats around him huddled together, mourning something bigger than just his mate: The Clan.

...

Shardclaw wandered through the dark forest, the moon above his head reflecting little light. His feet burned because of the ice that splintered beneath them, but the tom took no notice. Beside him, walked his leader, her fur illuminated silver.

They finally reached the cliff, above the lake that spanned forever on the horizon.

"Shardclaw..." She began, her lip curled in a spry smile. "I am sorry for your loss. It is a tragedy, truly, but I must request, you find a way to cope, and forget."

The cat opposite her looked up, eyes like slits. "You do not understand..."

"I do understand, and the clan cannot need this frivolous weakness, especially from you! You are in line to be the next leader of the fiercest clan in the forest, known for their merciless ways, but this is how you act? Unacceptable! I feel like I should revoke your title, and send you to live with the sick!"

Shardclaw stared at his leader, holding her cruel gaze. He searched for any sign of recourse, but found only a sick promise she intended to keep.

"So, are you going to hold onto memories past, or give up your losses?" The she cat asked finally, her voice colder than any Leafbare wind.

"I remember when I did not feel shame to call you my leader..." Shardclaw murmured, looking over the frozen sheet of ice that covered the lake.

"That's no answer." Featherstar hissed, claws scoring deep canyons in the earth.

"How's this, then," Shardclaw whipped to face her, teeth bared. "I will never stop honoring my family, or my clan. You, however, will only amount to fox dung to me! I tried my hardest to protect you, to save you from this blackness in your heart, but it is clear that not even Starclan could do that. With you as our leader, our clan will never have the hopes to rise up to how great it once was! You are our downfall, and you know it. You blame your failure on our weak, hiding your own weakness. And now you try to pin it on me, calling me the weakest of all cats, when we both know who truly is, Featherfur." Shardclaw's own gaze had gone toxic, his words scorching. His use of his leader's name from before had left the she cat with a slight tremor.

"So that is how it is going to be, then?" Featherstar laughed, if not nervously. She was up against a strong foe, now. But, perhaps, she had a chance. "Your words do nothing to harm me."

"Maybe the entire clan's will, then. They have already discussed tossing you out, believing you to have broken the warrior it code. Now I know I must support them." Shardclaw answered, turning away. "I'm finished here." He growled.

"No, you wretch! If you miss your family so much, go join them!" Featherstar snarled, lashing out. Her claws caught on Shardclaw's thick fur. The ton had no time to react, unbalanced and in shock at his leader's sudden outburst. It was far too late, as he felt her shove him away, off the ledge, down to the ice below. He shrieked, spinning in midair, until the rush caught up to him.

His body hit the ice with a dull thump, and from his lungs, his soul leaked. The ice was tainted red with loss, and the wind whispered it condolences.

Across the lake, a cat padded towards the body. She gently licked the corpse, her dull eyes glittering from held back tears. "Your losses shall be remembered... We honor you, Shardclaw..." She said, before finally gazing up the cliff. Featherstar watched her, unmoving. Deep within, the leader felt a dark sensation corrupt her body, she could not run, nor break away from the haunting eyes below.

A sudden gust of wind pushed her old body from its perch, and as she fell, screaming, no soul watching felt sorrow for the bitter cat.

Her body shattered through the ice, swallowed by dark water.

The she cat watching her dissent didn't so much as bat an eye as the ice cracked all around. She gently tugged Shardclaw's own body into the water, nodding him off, before turning. Her feet were guided by stars as she began to float, up and away, into the sky.

...

**Probably not as good as some of my other works, but I did want to get Shardclaw's back story out there! I also might be re-writing the previous chapter, and eventually maybe even this one. Good day to you all!**

**-Doge-**


	3. Patrol

Dawn streaks across the sky, surpassing the trees triumphantly. Inspiration hangs on the edge of this light; dew glistens, intently listening to the story birds paint with their voices.

Paws creep along, tired, chilled. Today is a new day, an early day. A wonderful day.

A smell snakes through the air, malicious and venomous. Claws score the earth, dividing two sides of a war.

All at once, the forest grows silent, stunned. Dew falls from its perch, birds cease their chorus. The sky and the earth are one, vibrantly red.

Paws frozen, words choked, bodies stained.

Just a normal patrol.


	4. A Day to Remember

**_A story dedicated to the celebrations we silly people have created. _**

* * *

_[Día De Los Muertos- The Day of the Dead]_

...

Bloody streaks cascaded across a darkening sky, the sun fighting one last battle before it descended entirely into nothing. Clouds rumbled across the opposite horizon at startling speeds, their mission clear and steadfast.

Below this war-torn plane, a forest of pine and oak made its home. And within this wood, a house staked its claim. Residing in this house, a family. A family unused to the dark, bittersweet tang of the decaying leaves, nor the flora and fauna of this diverse ecosystem. The tightly knit group was from a land of urban structures built upon sand, with air thin and clean.

Even with these differences, creatures of habit find ways to remain true to their heritage. And sometimes, only sometimes, they can teach the locals a few tricks too.

...

The whiplash of light, accompanied by the savage snarl of clouds a bone shook the house. A kit, no older than four moons, felt his bright ginger fur stand on end. His mother's own rumbling purrs helped to block out the snarls and barks of the raging sky above, but it did nothing to calm his mind. He could see them now, the mean spirits. They were outside, howling, snapping their teeth, just waiting to gobble him up!

"Mommy, mommy!" He urged, pushing into his mother's own pale fur. She stirred from her sleep, groggy eyes clearing as she recognized her only kit.

"Oli, pequeño? What is it?" She ran a delicate tongue over her precious kit's ear, annoying him as she did so.

"Hey, cut that out!" The kit protested fiercely, slipping away from his mother's affection. Returning to his original issue, the kit traced his wide green eyes across the the scape of the room. "Do you hear them? The spirits?" He asked, now quivering. Rain pounded on the roof, or perhaps those were little goblin's feet...

"Oh, silly Oliverio!" The queen's purr grew louder, her child acted so tough, but at the least little sound, he shook like a leaf in the wind. "Do you remember the stories I told you about Día De Los Muertos?"

Oliverio peered curiously at his mother. "The Day of the Dead?" He repeated.

"Yes, pequeño. Día De Los Muertos was a special day our housefolk celebrated, and still do. This is the day that we honor the dead, and it is why our Housefolk left earlier. They are gone to celebrate their ancestors, the lives they led. Today, spirits can join with the living in rejoice. So have no fear, mi amor, any spirits you encounter today are of kind nature."

"Woah..." Oliverio's thoughts back peddled, dashing away from the dark thoughts of crushing teeth and slicing claws. Now, he saw only bright spirits, skeletons of good nature, and brilliant dances from both parties.

A sudden intrusion broke his thoughts, as the kit's bold father spoke up from where he lay. "But do not forget about All Hallows' Eve, my dear." The Queen shot her mate a dirty look, but the dark colored tom was not deterred.

"Ghosts, demons, ghouls alike may roam free on this night!" He announced dramatically, staring at his son with deep seriousness. "While Momma and her Housefolk may find joy in their spirits, this day, by my belief, could only mean bad news. Beware, Oliverio, because you never know when a nasty ghost may..." The large tom paused, shifting his gaze from his kit to directly behind him. He stared intently, eyes growing fearful and wide, as if he saw something. Oliverio's eyes became as large as an owl's; he quickly shot around, looking like a little puff as his fur stood on end.

"Snatch you right up!" Roaring, his father pounced, playfully bowling over his son. The kit yowled, flipping this way and that in panic. He recovered quickly, darting back to his mother.

Momma swiped out a paw, batting her mate across the side of the head. "Oi," she scolded, tone harsh. "There was no need to scare him! He should not fear spirits, especially not your riffraff nonsense."

The father backed up, tail drooping. The sheepish grin on his face explained that he had not meant to scare his son as he had. "Oh, Oliverio, I was just playing around. Don't worry about any ghosts, okay?" Oliverio nodded his head, but did not seem sure.

"Go on, shoo." The Queen whipped her tail across the tom's flank. He snorted, and pranced back to his sleeping spot.

"Do not believe what your father said, Oliverio. There is nothing to fear this night." Pale fur wrapped around the kit as her soft words comforted him.

"Y-yeah..." Oliverio trailed off, eyelids drooping. Despite his terror, he was awfully tired. Surrounded by loving warmth, it took him no time at all to drift away, into lands of fantasy.

...

Small green eyes parted, a lack of warmth had stirred his mind from its dream. Looking around, he saw nothing of his mother. Panic began to set in, ginger fur started to rise, but a determined thought defeated his fear, 'Mommy must be honoring her ancestors. Perhaps... I should do the same?' He recalled the importance with which his mother had explained this occasion.

Standing, Oliverio crawled from his soft bedding, padding silently across his house, until he reached a familiar landmark. The door, one he could leave through. If the Housefolk had gone outside to celebrate, surely his mother had done the same?

Pushing through the flap as he had watched his parents do, Oliverio quickly became mystified.

Cold air tugged at his fur, as cold light illuminated his small form. All around him, forest glittered with fallen rain, silver sparks perched all throughout the tree line. Above, unfathomable heavens shined, no longer blocked out by angry clouds. Woven in the dark sky were patterns too intricate to decipher. The moon was full and large, glorious stars around it casting a spell on the kit as he memorized their beauty.

Movement form the corner of the ginger kit's vision caught his attention, interrupting his star gazing. It was a shape on the edge of the forest, one that he recognized. "Mommy!" He grinned, determined to follow her and partake in her special traditions.

Stepping down from the wooden deck, the kit bounced a few times out of surprise. His paws had been soaked immediately, along with his belly fur. A minor set back.

On his way, Oliverio went, with no intention of turning back.

But as he went deeper into the trees, the kit's strength began to falter. Trees once lit up by glowing rain drops were now reaching out their evil tendrils to snatch him up. All around, odd creatures screeched, and many yellow eyes watched his every move. Not to mention, he had lost the one he was following long ago.

Shivering both out of being cold and scared, Oliverio realized that he as horribly lost. His heart sank, and every way he turned, he could only see evil creatures, all wanting to crunch his bones to dust. Wailing, the kit turned tail and fled.

He crashed through the forest, tripping, stumbling, and once even stepping on a thorn. The kit did not care, he could only think about escaping what ever was after him.

Oliverio was hardly paying any attention to his path. He snagged a paw on a root, and went tumbling. Landing in soft grass, he took a moment, to catch his breath. Much to his surprise, he had ended up in a large field. The moon still shined above, watching the small cat with fond light.

Peering around again, Oliverio saw no monsters, nothing that wanted to gobble him up. He still did not see his mother, either, but he could not stop looking, not now. Striding out into the open space with a little bit more confidence, Oliverio did not so much as hear the devastating beat of dark wings on the air.

From behind, an owl screeched, scooping up the unattended kit in its talons. It cried out in triumph, as the kit cried out in agony. Another cry joined this chorus, one of fury. A large paw sliced down the owl's back, throwing it off balance and off trajectory. It had no choice but to drop its freshly caught meal, and Oliverio sailed through the air for a few seconds before landing in a pile of leaves. The owl flew off into the night, screeching angrily. The ginger kit whined, mewling pitifully. His side hurt, he had a scratch, the smell of blood was thick around him.

His savior suddenly joined the lost kit in his leaf pile, pulling him out of the soggy mess. Oliverio almost cried out in joy, he had thought for sure that this was his mother.

No, this cat did not carry the same sweet-spice scent that his mother did. This feline smelled of herbs and other earth bound elements. Not only that, but her thick fur was black, almost purple, her eyes a vivid green with a wild glint to them.

"Kit..." A voice smooth like silk but sharp like claws broke the silence that had fallen. White teeth had been bared, odd eyes narrowed to slits. "This is no night to be wandering around in this dark forest. Creatures of all types are just looking for little scraps like you to munch on... Not to mention, the malicious souls that have been released for this night only..."

Oliverio felt his body lock up, he could hardly stand. A sigh from the cat giving him a scrutinizing glare hardly registered in his stunned mind. A warm tongue lapped across his side, causing the kit to wince as his wound was being cleaned and sealed.

Finally, words were able to be pushed from his lungs. "N-no! Ther-there aren't a-any evil spirits!" He protested weakly, drawing on his mother's teaching. "It is Día De Los Muertos, the day that the dead and the living join together in harmony!"

"Oh really?" The dark she cat asked past her tongue. She sounded quite skeptical, which figured.

"Is my... Am I okay?" He asked shakily, recalling with a shudder the massive bird that had almost carried him off.

"Yes, you are very lucky... The owl's talon only grazed your side, the bleeding has stopped." This strange cat sounded relieved oddly enough, backing away.

"Good!"Oliverio felt his heart in his chest swell, not even an owl could mess with him!

A curiosity washed over the dark feline, her head tilted to one side as she inquired, "Now that we know you are in no danger of bleeding out, explain to me, what is this Día De Los Muertos?"

"Um... I'll just... Show you." The small cat looked away, trying to recall... He moved away suddenly, arranging sticks and stones in wonderful patters. It almost became a dance, his movements timed and thought out. Dirt was sprayed, earth scored by claws, nature arranged to form an image.

"What...?" Scrutinizing eyes inspected this little art project, unsure of what it was supposed to be. It looked like a skull, but... It was decorated, albeit by rocks and leaves, and not only that, but what would a kit be doing knowing about human skulls?

"The Day of the Dead." Confidence had once again filled Oliverio's posture and voice. "A time when you celebrate your ancestors, their lives, and stuff. You decorate like this," a small tail was pointed to the example. "And you give spirits gifts, things that they liked or had in real life! At least, I think that's what you do. It's what mommy and my Housefolk do."

A good natured smile appeared on the she cat's face, she peered down once more at the ornate arrangement. "That's... Interesting. But it still doesn't explain why you are out here, all alone."

"I wasn't all alone, I followed my mommy out here." Oliverio explained, somewhat frustrated. "I need to celebrate with the spirits, and I was going to do it with mommy, but... I don't know where she went. By now, she's probably back home... And I still haven't gotten to honor the souls..." At this point, the kit had begun to look forlorn, ears and tail drooping as he realized that his original mission had been completely forgotten.

"Hey, hey... Don't worry, I'm sure you can still celebrate." After not getting any reply, nor any sign that her comforting had done any good, the she cat tried again. "Listen, kit, what's your name? I am Tabitha."

Oliverio replied almost automatically, "I'm Oliverio."

"Oliverio? Well, Oliverio, you said you wanted to celebrate, correct? What if I said I could help you with that?" Tabitha grinned, smile toothy but honest.

Oliverio couldn't help but scoff. "What could you do? You didn't even know what it was."

"There's a first for everything, and I think I would like to honor these spirits too. Watch." Turning her attention to the design on the ground once again, Tabitha hummed a charm, tail swirling through the air.

Without a moment's notice, the ground came to life, a clacking and cackling filling the air with its joyous nature. Oli's head shot up, his eyes not believing what they were seeing. Before him, danced a full skeleton, clapping its bone hands. He cocked his head, unsure of why this dancing thing was here. The kit threw a curious look at Tabitha, who had begun to focus, ignoring the kit.

After watching the cheery skeleton for a few moments, the dark she cat's tail whipped through the air, snapping like a whip. The skeleton fell apart almost instantly, but it did not cease its jig. No, it's bones changed, altering into a form more familiar. Multiple cats made of bone jumped around, their forms decorated with bright paints and beads.

Oliverio was stunned, he hadn't truly thought that he would actually be celebrating with real skeletons, most definitely not like this.

From the stars, descended cats of astral origin. Their pelts glowed with stars, foot steps traced by constellations.

"Go, join them!" Tabitha urged, nudging Oli. The kit turned to her one last time, and with a final nod, he ran off, whooping and cheering as he joined the chaos of the spirits. They all danced to their own tune, alight with a fire previously unknown to Oliverio.

The witch's cat did not hide her pleasure, she was happy to see this once terrified little cat now enjoying what was clearly a special night to him and his family. Even though the spirits were merely illusions, it all felt as real as anything. Tabitha herself could not help but get swept away into the party.

Wordless songs echoed through the night, paws moving without ever tiring. The moon castes ghastly light across the clearing, and stars above twinkles as if they, too, were enjoying their night.

Dawn arrived with a haste it seemed, and final farewells had to be given out. Oliverio watched with sad eyes as the star cats raced each other back into the fading night, and the skeleton cats all fell away to dust, not bothered by their demise to the sun light.

Yawning widely, Oli looked to Tabitha. "Thank you..." He smiled softly, eyes half lidded.

Rolling her eyes, Tabitha picked the kit up, carrying his dead weight with an endearing sigh. "You're welcome, Oliverio. Let's get you home." The kit responded with only a nod, exhaustion had taken over his body.

Padding through a forest Tabitha had known her whole life, the dark she cat reached Oli's house in record time. The sun had still not yet poked over the horizon fully.

Jumping up the stairs, Tabitha stopped at the door, setting down Oliverio. She scratched loudly across the glass, creating a horrible screeching noise. From inside, she heard a yell of surprise, meaning that she had done her job.

The door slowly creaked open, a young two leg peering out curiously. Upon looking down, he gasped loudly, scooping up the kit he had thought was lost. Tabitha was nowhere to be seen, however.

The two leg softly closed the door behind him as he held the kitten close to his chest, and walked to a warm room where a worried mother sat rigid. Placing Oliverio down, the young two leg smiled as he watched the Queen rush over to her kit, purring as loud as ever as she licked her child with a fierceness unique to a mother. The tom also padded over, sitting by his kit and occasionally licking him across the fore head. It was clear that whatever had happened, the kit was tuckered out. He would always try to escape his mother's affections, but now he hardly resisted.

Standing, the two leg left the room, collapsing back onto the couch, back into sleep.

...

From the edge of the forest, Tabitha watched as Oliverio was scooped up by his two leg. Satisfied, she knew that the oddly adventurous kit would be safe. Turning, she padded away, black fur lost to the shadows of the wood.


	5. Those Stars

They say all things happen for a reason... I would like to know what that reason is.

It is a clear night. The stars shine without care of what other things think. The stars, they laugh, and they say, "Who are you to question us? Silly, stupid, that is what you are."

Some of these astral creatures dazzled red, others, blinding white. Then there are the yellow ones who relax, and the blue ones that are hiding... I ask them why they are different from each other. They laugh at me again. "We do not know, and we do not care!" they reply. "Why does it matter to you, you young thing?"

That is a good question. To them, those stars way up there, I could only tell the truth. "I want to know... so that maybe when I walk down there, on that world you all look at sometimes, I might remember."

I did not remember. No one ever does.

It is a clear night. No clouds dare plague the vision above. Below, a mighty wind howls, its belly warm and full. It goes to fight, to conquer the snow. They wrestle, cuffing each other like brutes. Once again, the wind is defeated, dead. But the snow still melts, bleeding away from the white perfection it once was.

There is a castle. It stands strong, its spires reaching for the heavens. Colors like swirling rainbows decorate these outstanding works. They seem happy, almost. As if they did not know what was going on within their structure, as if they had never known. They are like the stars; they did not care, they never would. Even though so many eyes might wander all across them in awe, they lacked compassion for anyone but themselves. They were as they were, and that was how it was supposed to be. That was all that mattered.

A room does its best to hide the tragedy within its enclosure. Unlike the spires and the mighty stone walls and the castle, this room had enough sense to understand the dire need for secrecy and empathy. For within this room, behind this closed door, death stood, heavy and tired. A king, his queen, a witch, and a prince also found themselves in this room.

The king, hunched over in broken sobs. The tears poured from his body, stealing his warmth, his life. Just as death had stolen his so dearly beloved wife, those salty streams were no different.

The witch watched with closed eyes. The queen had requested this witch by her bedside this clear night. Their families had been tied for generations, and now the cycle would go on. In this old hag's arms, a new thing, a child.

The prince found himself to be something out of the ordinary. Not only was this life breathtaking and overwhelming, but he himself was unexpected. His time in the womb was spent thinking, but about what, he could not recall. Not this. This terror, those agonized cries... No, not even about how he was not like anything else around him.

Those blackish twigs that had begun to curl from his skull, those pathetic and sodden wings, that thin sprig of a tail. None of those details had crossed anyone's mind. Not until they were seen. Not until a dagger was drawn and death once again threatened to claim another life.

Before anyone could act, the Old One spoke. Who is the Old One, the prince wondered. Perhaps if he recalled the star's words, he would know. The Old One recalled a long forgotten tale, a series of words that had foretold this night. Once more, the prince wondered why any of this was important. There is a reason for everything, he reminded himself.

Those ancient words faded as swiftly as they had arrived, but their effect was clear. The room was left silent, as were its occupants.

"You will be the greatest king ever known." the father affirmed, staring into his son's deep eyes. "But you will never know who you are."

The prince figured this to be ridiculous. He knew who he was. He was him, and that was that. A deep magic entered his blood, and a deep throb sprung through his spine. He was safe, now, from who he was.

I cannot decide if I agree. Then again, I am indecisive.

The stars told me, not too long ago, that when they die, it is often because of themselves. How fitting.

How quaint is it, that in the end, those godly burning beasts cannot escape themselves. All their lives, they live and they thrive. They look down upon others and they laugh. How could anyone but a star know of what it is like to live like that? To grin and smile and burn for so long, to build a legacy grander than any castle, only to one day destroy themselves and their kingdom.

It makes me laugh, the thought of it all. How could a star call anyone else silly and stupid? How could they not care why they are all different, how could they not know?

… perhaps they are afraid. Perhaps, as they live, and they see, they cannot stand being so distant. All the events that take place, and those stars cant do a thing about them. All those eyes that look to them and pray, the stars say, "No, not to us! Your words are lost in this heaven, please do not wish to us..." Those dazzling beauties, they urge the creatures to leave them behind, to forget they ever existed... but as time drags them on, they realize that no one ever listens, no one ever remembers. Why bother... why care... They can only laugh, they can only smile. They can only hide or blind or relax or even dazzle.

Stars are so different, so distant. They live an eternity, but are gone in the blink of an eye.

They may be able to eventually ignore us, but they cannot ignore themselves.

I am not so different from a star.


End file.
